


Promptly Ficced: South Park

by facetiousfutz



Category: South Park
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Anxiety, Broadway References, Canon Gay Relationship, Community: fic_promptly, Depression, Eric Cartman Being An Asshole, F/M, Fluff, Gen, Heidi is just as evil as Cartman, Humor, Insecurity, Liane isn't taking any of Cartman's shit, Long-Term Relationship(s), M/M, Mental Health Issues, References to Shakespeare, South Park 2104 - Franchise Prequel, South Park: The Fractured But Whole, Spaceman Craig, Stan Marsh is Depressed
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-10-12
Updated: 2018-02-03
Packaged: 2019-01-16 12:34:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 5,712
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12342807
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/facetiousfutz/pseuds/facetiousfutz
Summary: A hodgepodge of unrelated short stories that I wrote for the Dreamwidth community fic_promptly. Expect a lot of Creek.





	1. Creek - Grumpy, Yet Sweet

**Author's Note:**

> Author's Choice - Author's Choice - he always needed to have the green mug for his coffee

“Here you go,” said Craig, handing Tweek a small gift bag. 

“Wait, what?” said Tweek. “What’s the occasion? Did I forget something? Ngah!” He then sputtered out, muttering that, had he forgotten some occasion, then he should have gotten Craig something in return. He didn’t have anything to give Craig in return. How could he not have anything to give Craig in return? 

“You were absent all week and I missed you, so I got you a present.” 

“Oh...” Tweek stared at the bag, his bug-eyed expression melting into one of mild curiosity. He accepted the gift in his shaky hands, and when he opened the bag he pulled out a green mug with a picture of an grumpy cow on it. Its caption was “I am not Amoosed.” Tweek turned it over over in his hands, admiring its size, and the exact shade of green that it was. 

“Thank you, Craig,” said Tweek, gently placing it back into his bag. “I... I like it. I like it a lot. I’ll use it every morning, and I’ll do my best not to break it this time. I’m sorry about the last one.” 

“It’s OK, babe. It happens.” 

“I know, but I’m gonna try really, really hard to make this one last. I’m still upset about the last one. It was the first one you ever gave me and...”

Craig placed his hand on Tweek shoulder and kissed him on the forehead. Tweek let out a strangled sigh and placed his gift inside of his locker. He knew Craig wasn’t mad about it. Ceramic mugs only cost like six bucks, and their parents gave them more money than they knew what to do with sometimes. Even so, it was from Craig, and anything from Craig was precious. He had to protect it, but he also had to use it. 

The first thing he did when he got home with his gift was wash it, careful not to let it slip out of his hands as he did so. Then he dried the mug, filled it with coffee, and enjoyed the way it fit in his cold hands perfectly. He stood there for awhile, enjoying the rare moment of peace, and that’s where he decided that this was the only mug he ever wanted to drink coffee from. 

That, and he really liked the cow. It was funny. It reminded him of Craig. Grumpy, yet sweet. He almost wanted to put sugar in his coffee now. Almost.


	2. Creek & Butters - Win-Win

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Any, Any, "If horror movies scare you so much, why do you watch them?"

It was Friday night, and for the past three months that meant horror movie night at the Marsh residence. The group consisted only of Stan, Kyle, Cartman, and Kenny at first. Then their prized fifth wheel, Butters, followed them home one day and peed his pants when they watched 1976 Carrie together. He raved about it to the whole class, and more buttholes started showing up, like Clyde, Token, Timmy, and Jimmy. Naturally Craig caught wind of it and thought that’d be a pretty sweet way to spend a Friday night. He could get out of the house, and wherever he went, Tweek was bound to follow. 

Tweek hated horror movies, though. They were so real to him. He’d spent most of his time hiding in the kitchen at first, and Stan’s mom allowed him it make himself some instant coffee. He choked the foul substance down. It was at least two years past its sell by date, but coffee was coffee, so he drank it. 

Then Butters appeared in the kitchen. He was wearing rubber pants beneath his clothes, well prepared piss himself. He grabbed some Capri Sun out of the fridge, and said, “Why are you in here, little buddy? The next show’s about to start.” 

“Nyagh! I hate horror movies,” said Tweek, cradling glorified luke warm mud in his shaky palms. “I didn’t sleep for four days after watching Nightmare on Elm Street.” 

“Then why do you come over on horror movie night? Is it ‘cause Craig’s here, and you think you’ll look like a pussy in front of your boyfriend if you don’t?” 

“Don’t call Tweek a pussy, asshole,” said Craig, walking into the kitchen. “Come on, babe. It’s on.” 

“Argh!” said Tweek, as Craig lead him out into the living room. The lights were out, and while everyone else was paying attention to the movie, Craig handed Tweek his iPod and drew his head into the crook of his neck. Tweek closed his eyes, listening to Gersploosh while cuddling with his boyfriend, and Craig watched the movie. It was a win-win. Meanwhile, Butters peed his rubber pants once more, and Cartman pushed him away when he tried to hide his face in the fatass’s shoulder. Only Tweek and Craig got to cuddle on horror movie night.


	3. Cartman & Ensemble - The Fractured Butthole and Dick Pics

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Any, any, "It's wrong how much you enjoy that."
> 
> Also, this is me being extremely impatient, waiting for the game to come out, so I ficced fucking gameplay footage.

Everyone was gathered around the school cafeteria, groaning and laughing as the new kid handed out various pieces of artwork acquired from Cartman’s journal. 

“Hey, boners. What are you guys looking at?” said Cartman, taking a seat next to Clyde. Clyde scooted away from him slowly. 

“Dude, Cartman,” said Stan, and that was all he could say before breaking out into more breathless chuckles. Kyle had tears in his eyes from laughing too hard, and had to bury his face in Jimmy’s shoulder. 

“WHAT?” Cartman demanded, seeing various sheets of paper all around the table. He snatched one out of Kenny’s hands, only to be greeted by a picture of Butters naked and fucking Mr. Kitty. A picture he himself drew. “Where the fuck did you get this?” 

“Dude, we’re totally not telling,” said Kyle, snorting and laughing some more. The new kid had more than just the pictures of Butters, but he’d save the rest for when he needed Craig and Kyle pissed off at Cartman. 

“Guys, I am seriously! You can’t just look at my private journal entries!” 

“He really DID draw them!” Kyle hollered, a fresh wave of laughter and tears. This was better than the time Cartman got AIDS. He was gonna explode if he kept this up, but it was so worth it. 

“Hey fellas!” said Butters, taking a seat next to Cartman. Everyone hid the papers, laughing and snorting while Butters was completely oblivious. In fact, Butters started laughing, too. He didn’t need to know what was funny. He just needed to fit in. 

“Oh, whatever guys. Fuck you! Let’s go, Butters,” said Cartman, grabbing the smaller boy by the scruff of his shirt. 

“Go where, Eric? I just sat down.” 

“It's wrong how much you enjoy Butters’s dick,” said Craig, in such a flat tone of voice it took everyone else by surprise. The laughter started anew.

“Says the biggest dick-loving butt pirate in the entire skoo! Fuck you, Craig!” 

“Yeah!” Butters agreed. Craig flipped them off, and the two of them walked away. 

The new kid said nothing, picking at his canned string beans while plotting how he could cause mayhem next. But that would have to wait until October 17th, when the franchise would finally begin.


	4. Creek - The Book of Butt Pirate

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Any, any, Don't call us Romeo and Juliet

Tricia Tucker was awfully chatty at the dinner table, but only when Tweek was over. It was her job to embarrass her brother in front of his boyfriend as much as she could. 

“So like, all the girls in my class gossip and make lists about the two of you all the time.” 

Craig said nothing. He didn’t even look up from his food. Tweek flinched at the thought of girls gossiping about him, and he shook so much that he couldn’t keep his peas on his fork. Although this was no surprise to him either, that didn’t mean he was comfortable with it. 

Laura spoke up and said, “Now Tricia. You know it’s not nice to gossip.” 

“Who said anything about me gossiping?” said Tricia. “Well, OK. So maybe I suggested Tweek stands outside Craig’s window at night and sings him to sleep...” 

“Gay,” said Craig, and he flipped her off. 

Tricia flipped him off right back and said, “And Courtney was like ‘Oh Em Gee just like Romeo and Juliet’ and all the girls were like ‘aww.’” 

“Romeo and Juliet?” said Tweek, twitching. “No way, man. I don’t want to drink poison and stab myself for true love. I-I’d rather just play video games and raise a guinea pig.” 

“Yeah,” said Craig. “That play totally sucks. We have to sit and watch the fifth graders do it every year, and they always suck.” 

“I heard PC Principal is open to same sex couples performing as Romeo and Juliet. Something to think about for next year.” 

“NO!” said Tweek. “I don’t want to perform on stage. Too much pressure!” 

“That’s a shame. You’re a good actor, Tweek,” said Craig. 

“No way, man. Not unless you do it!” 

“Not a chance in hell,” said Craig. “I hate acting. I never care enough to memorize my lines.” 

“Huh. I thought gay guys were into that performing arts stuff, though,” said Thomas. 

“Not all gay guys are the same, dad,” said Craig. “It’s bad enough I sang that one time, even if it was for a good cause.” 

“Dude, it was more than one time. Don’t lie,” said Tricia. “I can’t wait to see your future Broadway musical, The Book of Butt Pirate. I bet it’ll be a smash hit.” 

“Broadway? Oh God! No fucking way,” said Tweek. “I-I’d rather just do Romeo and Juliet. Everyone’s seen it so many times that they won’t care if I suck. Right? Right??” 

“You’re the better singer and actor, Tweek,” said Craig. “Tell you what. You star in Butt Pirate, and I’ll play the grave digger in Romeo and Juliet that finds that dead clown’s skull.” 

“That’s Hamlet, you moron,” said Tricia. Craig really didn’t give a fuck what it was. It’s not like he was seriously gonna do it, even if the girls in his class were already pressuring them to. Thanks a lot, PC Principal.


	5. Creek - Dedication

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Any, any, time is relative

Craig and Tweek were an anomaly in the quiet mountain town of South Park, Colorado. They had frequent and petty arguments, and sometimes when they really lost their cool they’d get into fist fights that were always a spectacle. At the end, one would help the other off the ground. Their lips split, their noses bloody, their faces and clothes caked in mud, they would grasp hands and not let go, leaving their audience behind hand-in-hand and forgetting what the fight was about in the first place. 

That was the status quo of their relationship, and they liked it. They rarely got in trouble for fighting. Their injuries were never serious. The worst was when Craig’s tooth got chipped on the playground, but he got that fixed, and not six months later did his parents force him to get braces. In solidarity, Tweek wore his prescription glasses that looked really stupid on him, and their peers declared that they were “gayer than ever.” 

Well, they weren’t wrong. 

The tumult and unconditional support in their relationship was regarded by some as unhealthy, but they say lovers can only be successful if they communicate. Craig never had the words, so he let Tweek have the words. Tweek was mostly OK with having the words, until Craig’s generally flat affect gave him nothing to work with, spiraling him into an anxiety-induced rage. Sometimes the only way they could find what needed to be said was through shouting and fighting. 

Aside from that, they were comfortably glued to the hip. No secrets. No bullshit. They were immune to the rumor mill, and they always had each others’ backs, almost obnoxiously so. Craig couldn’t fight with anyone else without Tweek getting upset and overprotective, but that’s only because he cared. 

There was never a shift, nor a crack. Their ups and downs were like clockwork and they always knew how to deal with it. Their routine never grew stale because they never bothered dealing with acting, or participating in things that made either of them unhappy. They sacrificed none of what they wanted to be together. It helped that what they wanted most was each other.

That’s why they stayed together, all the way until end of high school and counting. It was a time where peers, counselors, and parents alike pressured them into choosing a college. They both chose the Community College in Denver, because it was cheap, close by, something to do, and they wouldn’t be separated. 

“I mean, damn,” said Token. “You’ve been together for what? Eight years? And you still refuse to go off and do your own things? That’s... really something else.” 

“Not really,” said Craig. “I like Tweek, so he stays.” 

“But what about your future? Haven’t you ever been curious about dating other people?” 

“I mean, you sneak into the Hippo with us all the time and have 'Interested in Men and Women’ on your facebook profile,” said Clyde. “And you just want to stay with Tweek?”

“Yup,” said Craig. “Tits are hot, but Tweek is mine.” 

“Dude,” said Token. “That’s dedication.” 

“Well, that settles it. Craig Tucker finally cares about something,” said Clyde.

Craig flipped them both off. It’s been eight years. He wouldn’t date someone for eight years if he didn’t care. That’s just stupid. Hell, it didn’t even feel like eight years. It felt more like eight months. Sometimes it felt like eight weeks on really good days. Who the fuck wanted to give that up for some shitty fratboy hell way out in New England? MIT suited Token, but Tweek suited Craig, and that was that.


	6. Heiman - Tables Turn

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Any, any, "Come, on. Isn't it the cutest thing you've ever seen?"

The anger radiating from Eric Cartman was so thick you could choke on it, and mom and Heidi really didn’t give a shit. 

"Come, on. Isn't it the cutest thing you've ever seen?" said Heidi, exiting the dressing room with yet another dress on. It was the seventh one she tried. Cartman’s phone was about to die, and if he were anymore bored he’d drop dead where he sat. Actually, that didn’t seem like such a bad idea.

“Oh yes, sweetie. Give us a twirl,” said Ms. Cartman, recording Heidi twirling around in a cute, cranberry frock. 

“Oh my GOD! Can we PLEASE go to the toy store?” said Cartman. 

“Almost, sweetie,” said Heidi with a curtsy. “First, you have to tell me how I look.”

“Fine. Whatever. Buy the fucking dress so we can go!” 

“Eric, watch your language,” said Ms. Cartman. Then she and Heidi took their time comparing the sea green lace dress to the cranberry frock while Cartman sat there in unparalleled agony. 

Kyle sent the following text after Cartman flooded his inbox with no less than eighty-two complaints in a row: Just break up with her, fatass. 

Cartman would have sent a scathing reply, complete with cursing all Jews for eternity, but his phone died before he could send it. 

“Mahm! My phone died and I’m fucking bored!” 

“That’s enough, Eric. It’s Heidi’s birthday and she wanted to go shopping. You’ll just have to be patient.” 

Heidi gave him a sickeningly sweet smile and blew him a kiss. Of course she was going to choose both dresses, but Eric didn’t need to know that just yet.


	7. Creek - Spaceman Craig and Martian Tweek

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Any, any, don't make me turn this space ship around.

Tricia Tucker stood quietly in the doorway, watching her loser brother and his twitchy boyfriend play Spaceman Craig together. She didn’t know if they sounded more like old farts, insufferable nerds, or bratty children. 

“Greetings. This is Spaceman Craig and Martian Tweek. Do you copy?” 

“Vvvv-HNKK!” said the rubber chicken when he squeezed it. 

“Roger that, space chicken. We have confirmed the location of your people. I’m sorry to report that they can be found in no less than twenty-eight cans of Campbell’s Chicken Noodle Soup.” 

“Oh god. That’s really morbid, dude,” said Tweek, scratching the headband that held up his alien antennae. These are the things you find on the Clearance rack five days after Halloween, when all the good discount candy is gone. 

“Listen, Spacebabe. The parental units down below hoard the damn stuff around this time of year. They say it’s to heal the sinus infections that we all get, but I don’t think it works.” 

“Sinus infection? No way! You said you just had allergies. I don’t want to get sick.” 

“Dude, chill. I’m not sick,” said Craig. 

“I won’t chill! What do you think this is, Freedom Pals?” 

“Don't make me turn this space ship around.” 

“Did you remember to take your Allegra today?” 

“Yes. Did you remember to take your K-pill?” 

“It’s called Clonazepam. And yes, I did!” 

“OK.”

“O-OK!”

“Fine!”

“Yeah!” 

“Shut up and kiss already,” said Tricia, and Craig threw a pillow at the door.


	8. Creek - Coming Out to Grandma

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Any, any, use your words

"Ngah! No, n-not quite. Try again," said Tweek. 

"May I have a piece of coffee cake, _please?_ " said Craig, and then he stuck up his middle finger. 

"OK. Now try doing that without the middle finger." 

"I don't understand. Why does this matter?" said Craig. "I flip your parents off everyday and they don't even seem to notice." 

"My parents don't care!" said Tweek. "B-but my grandma might. Argh! It's stressful enough that I have to come out as gay to her. Please don't flip her off. She's like an old school nun. She might beat you with a ruler!" 

"Really? You really think I'm going to be brutally assaulted by your grandma?" 

"... No? Yes? I don't know, Craig. That's why we have to be careful, just in case." 

"Oh God..." said Craig. He didn't like this at all. "I'll keep my hands in my pockets the whole time. See?" He slid his hands into his pockets. "May I have a piece of coffee cake, _please_ , Mrs. Tweek's Grandma?"

"OK," said Tweek. "I think that's good enough. Thank you for doing this, Craig." 

"Anything for you, honey," said Craig, his tone flat and suggesting the slightest hint of sarcasm. The expression he wore was far less than amused, and he knew this was going to be awkward and uncomfortable, but if it was for Tweek's sake, he supposed he could do it. It was only fair. They came out to Craig's grandma together, after all. It helped that she took the news a lot better than Craig's dad did initially, though. 

"Ready?" said Tweek, reaching for Craig's hand. "Oh, right. You're keeping them in your pockets." 

"I mean, if you think you can hold my finger down the whole time," said Craig, reaching with one of his hands. Tweek snorted, and took that hand. "How does your grandma feel about PDA?" 

"Ah! I didn't think of that," said Tweek, snatching his hand away. Craig pouted and slid his hand back into his pocket. Well, that was nice while it lasted. 

"Let's just get this over with." 

"Yeah..." 

"Are you OK?"

"No..." 

"Then maybe we should wait," Craig suggested. "It's not like we're gonna break up anytime soon." 

"No, no, no. It has to be now. I-I need to get this over with, but gah! So much pressure! I feel like my lungs are going to collapse." 

"Tweek, Craig. Come on downstairs. Grandma's here," said Tweek's dad from the bottom of the stairs. Tweek buried his face in Craig's chest and let out a silent scream. Craig threaded his fingers through Tweek's hair and kissed the top of his head. 

"It's OK, babe. Hey, look at me." 

Tweek looked up in horror, pale as a sheet, with a tinge of green. Was he going to throw up? Craig hoped not. He cupped the other boys warm cheeks in his palms and kissed him on the nose.

"I guess, whatever happens, you still have me. OK?"

He lowered his hands and kept them at his side. Then he said, "May I please have a slice of coffee cake, ma'am?" He wasn't sarcastic. He didn't stick up his middle finger. He didn't even twitch. 

"That was perfect," said Tweek, and he rewarded his boyfriend with a brief peck on the lips. Craig smiled. He didn't smile much, but Tweek sure knew how to drag them out of him. 

"Come on, boys. Grandma's eager to meet the boy who stole my son's heart," said Tweek's dad, and suddenly all the blood flooded from Tweek's face again. Although a weight had been lifted from his shoulders, a sudden embarrassment that only parents inflicted upon their kids washed over Tweek like a tsunami.

"Oh God. I can't do this," said Tweek. 

"Yes you can," said Craig. "We'll get it over with, OK? And then I'll buy us ice cream." 

"Kill me." 

"Tweek, no." 

"FUCK!" 

"I know, babe." 

"Why does my dad have to be so... ugh!" 

"I know, babe. Parents suck." 

"He means well, but holy shit..."

"Yup." 

"OK... OK. I-I got this. Let's do it. Let's see grandma." 

"And then get ice cream?"

"Fuck yes. As long as it's coffee-flavored." 

"Yeah, yeah," said Craig, putting his arm around Tweek's shoulder. "Come on, nerd. Let's get this over with."


	9. Creek - Stuck at Work

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's choice, author's choice, stuck at work.

They lived in fucking Colorado. Of course it snowed. It snowed a lot. Craig was never hopeful that school would close down during white outs and blizzards, and often it took a state of emergency before the schools would shut down. This happened exactly three times in his entire K-12 career. 

And the roads were closed tonight, due to dangerous road conditions and virtually non-existent visibility. There wasn’t a problem with this in and of itself. The problem was that Craig was stuck at his job at Wallmart, his car buried in a foot of snow in the parking lot. He was supposed to clock out an hour ago, but Mother Nature volunteered him to stay and work a double. He owed the bitch a middle finger once he got the chance. 

Meanwhile, he was sitting on the toilet pretending to take a shit while he messaged his boyfriend on Facebook. 

Craig Tucker: sry babe. roads are closed. i’m stuck here for the night

In two seconds flat, Tweek was online and typing. 

Tweek Tweak: oh thank god you’re not driving. i was getting sick with worry. 

Craig Tucker: i would if i could but i’d get arested 

Tweek Tweak: you’re always so eager to drive in the goddamn snow! it’s sooo dangerous! 

Craig Tucker: dude only if you drive like an asshole. i always go like two miles an hour except up hills u kno that

Tweek Tweak: it doesn’t fucking matter. i’d rather you be somewhere warm and safe! 

Craig Tucker: ya i kno that babe. and your getting your way, because i’m fucking stuck here.

Craig Tucker: the paycheck i get from this is gonna be sweet tho 

Tweek Tweak: i’m so happy you’re safe. i love you. 

Tweek Tweak: we need bread and coffee. bring some home, ok?

Craig Tucker: yah. ttyl bb. love u 

Craig switched off his phone and went back out onto the floor, far less disgruntled than he was before. He knew messaging Tweek was the right thing to do, even if being stuck here overnight sucked ass.


	10. Creek - Nodding Off

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Any, any, exhaustion and rest

Craig was on his bed, playing Minecraft on his Xbox while Tweek was nodding on and off. They had some pretty sweet co-op going for awhile, but Tweek's focus faded fast, and he complained of a swimmy headache. 

"Dude, I think you should take a nap." 

"But," said Tweek, his concern punctuated by a yawn. "What if your parents see and freak out?" 

"They won't care," said Craig. "Seriously, dude. How many days has it been?" 

"I sleep every night," said Tweek, though he couldn't even convince himself that that was true. "E-except last night. And I only slept an hour the night before." 

"Christ, dude," said Craig. "Take a nap. It's totally fine." 

"But... you. Won't you be bored... I..." Tweek's eyes slammed shut, and just as quickly he jerked them open. They were bloodshot and pointed intently at nothing in particular. 

Craig paused his game and gently squeezed Tweek's shoulders. "Please, Tweek. _Sleep._ You look like shit." 

"Augh!" Tweek agreed to lay down. "I don't know if I can sleep. The sun's still up, and this isn't my bed. Oh, I don't want your dad... to... be mad at us..." 

"The door is open and you're wearing pants. I promise my dad won't care, OK?" 

Tweek was asleep before he could even finish. Craig sighed, and kissed his boyfriend on the cheek gently. He really was tired if he could just zonk out like that. "Sleep well, love." 

Later that day, Craig felt himself nodding off, too. Minecraft's soundtrack had that effect on him. He turned off his game, rolled over on his stomach next to Tweek, then shut his eyes. He considered setting an alarm on his phone, but he didn't want to wake Tweek no matter what. His parents would eventually. They'd probably coo about how cute they were. At least his mom would. His dad would likely be embarrassed. His sister would be a pain in the ass. 

But at least Tweek was getting some sleep. And now Craig was, too. It was nice. Really... nice.


	11. Creek - Well Enough

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Any, any "we've got loads of space!"

“And that’s Stripe’s old maze, remember?” said Craig, gesturing toward a dusty pile of spare parts in the far corner. It was once put to good use, but then Stripe #4, the greatest guinea pig to ever live, passed away at the tender age of 9, and Craig was still beside himself over it. He never let anyone see him cry, though. “And to your right are the washers and dryers. I do all the laundry in the house, cleaning, cooking, handy work, oil changes. You name it, I’m on it. I’m my dad’s bitch for a living. It’s my parents’s way of justifying why they don’t charge me rent.” 

“Craig, I...” said Tweek, still adjusting to being back in town. He’d been hospitalized for the better part of a year, and had nowhere to stay since he couldn’t go back to his parents. His dad was in jail. His mom was still in the hospital. They’d only graduated high school a year ago, and this is where they were at. All this shit hit the fan all at once. Whenever Tweek tried to piece it altogether, he just walked around in circles, clutching his head and muttering to himself non-words, his mind hopeless and foggy.

It took Craig months to get his parents to agree to rent the basement out to Tweek. They were old fashioned and irritated enough that their own nineteen year old kid had no plans on moving out, but now wanted his long term boyfriend, who carried enough emotional baggage to kill the average man, to move in, too. Every inch of what Thomas Tucker learned and experienced growing up in the 70's told him that the answer was no, unquestionably. And yet, no wasn’t the answer that was right. No was an answer that never came. It went from “we’re not having this conversation right now” to “he really has nowhere else to go?” And it was settled. Thomas walked down the stairs with Craig one day and said "he can stay down here. We've got loads of space! Just make sure he keeps it clean and finds a job." 

Craig immediately went to work, arranging, organizing, cleaning and dusting away random debris, so he’d have enough room for a cot and all of Tweek’s belongings. 

And then Tweek arrived, grateful though he was, he was also quiet. Unable to look anyone in the eye. Laura Tucker told him to get some rest. They'd all have plenty of time to talk. And now, after Craig had given him the awkward grand tour, Tweek buried himself in Craig’s chest and hung there, overwhelmed, exhausted, hanging on by a thread. Just because he was well enough to be out of the hospital didn't mean he was well. 

Craig held him, saying nothing while Tweek took his time.


	12. Style - What is Good Enough?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Any, any, feeling dead, like the heart emptied of all blood
> 
> (warning: very angsty, major depressive disorder)

Reality sucked. 

On good days, Stan could go to school and sit with the guys. Maybe even laugh a little here and there. They didn’t seem to care one way or the other, how often Stan drifted in and out. Most of them had their own shit going on anyway. Jimmy was the president of the Performing Arts club. Wendy was the president of Amnesty. Kyle had a 4.2 grade point average and just got back from a semester in Hong Kong. Cartman was involved in student government, much to Kyle and Wendy’s dismay. Tweek and Craig got shoehorned into becoming members of the GSA, but refused being in any position that involved anymore effort than showing up. Butters wound up being the president of GSA, since his dad would ground him if he wasn’t president of something. And Kenny? Well, Kenny sold pot to them all to keep them sane. 

Stan was perpetually free of responsibilities beyond homework, and even that he could barely keep up with. He felt sick and dead inside. So what else was new? His sister dropped out at sixteen and took off to Montana, never to be seen or heard from again, except from their mom. Shelly wouldn’t even talk to Stan. That was, well. Fine. Be that way. 

Another person who disappeared was Randy. He’d gone to La Hacienda Treatment Center in Texas for his alcohol problem. This was his third go of it. The first he’d done since he and Sharon got divorced. Who even knew if it’d stick this time, or if he’d roll off the damn deep end? Stan didn’t have it in him to hope anymore. 

All he had was a cold knife piercing his sternum. He was afraid. He never touched alcohol, but would toke with Kenny, Towelie, and Henrietta to take the edge off. His mom had him on Ritalin again. He didn’t have fucking ADHD, but his grades improved anyway, so the hell with it. All his friends would go to off to college, thousands of miles away, and he could go to Denver Community College with other assholes who didn’t have enough energy to care either, like Tweek, Craig, Kenny, Clyde, and whoever else. 

He was finding it harder to face Kyle by the day. They drifted in and out of each other’s bubbles. Kyle’s parents had high expectations, and Stan’s parents, well. Randy was a drunk, and Sharon had attempted suicide twice. Stan wondered if he’d be able to go wherever Kyle was going. Obviously not to the same college, but at least the same town? Stan’s grades were nothing to sneeze at miraculously. They were above a 3.0, but that’s as far as he could manage, and that was all medicine. Without it, he’d just be a lump. 

Maybe that’s all he was. Maybe he was just a lump. Maybe he didn’t deserve to be friends with someone like Kyle. Someone who was going places. Someone who was going to make something of himself. Stan was just gonna get a job selling firearms with uncle Jimbo, or something. Maybe he’d be a bar tender. Maybe he’d build himself a bomb shelter and hide in it until he faded away, where no one would ask about him, and no one would miss him, least of all Kyle. 

Well, no. It wouldn't go down like that, because for some reason, Kyle still cared. Kyle had gotten very touchy in high school. Not like sensitive, or taking everything personally. He was under a lot of stress, and Stan was where he would go to decompress. He'd want to play basketball, or ride bikes. He always wanted hugs. There were times they attempted sexual favors, and backed out halfway in. All because Kyle was feeling anxious, depressed, and stressed, mind you. 

Now, Stan wanted to resent that. During his first depressive episode, Kyle totally shunned him and treated him like a shit stain. Once the source of Stan’s shitty moods became more apparent, though, Kyle had grown more knowledgeable and accepting. In turn, Stan kept a lid on his anger and snide remarks. He saved them for therapy. 

In the past month, Kyle had come into his house and had a complete mental breakdown. Stan had never seen another human scream and cry so much in his life. You’d think Kyle’s entire family was murdered right before his eyes. That’s how much pressure he was under. Stan didn’t know what to do, but once Kyle was on his knees, hugging his chest and hyper ventilating, Stan wrapped his arms around the smaller boy and they stayed, just like that. Time stood still, and Stan knew. If Kyle needed him to stay grounded, then Stan would do whatever it took. 

He loved Kyle. He loved Kyle more than anyone, or anything, and always had. Even more than his family, or life. He loved Kyle, and he hated himself. He didn’t see himself as anyone Kyle could possibly want, or need. There was no role Stan offered that a therapist, Kyle's parents, and any of Kyle's other friends couldn’t fill. That’s what Stan told himself over the years. He wasn’t good enough. He had nothing to give. If his own parents couldn’t love him, why would Kyle? Why should he? 

It hurt. It hurt so goddamn much. In their freshman year, they had their first kiss. Stan was so into it. He held on for so long. It was an escape to another world. Somewhere peaceful. Somewhere safe. A place that made sense. A place he didn’t deserve. It’d be two years from then, where Kyle would look him dead in the mouth and demand to know why they didn’t take things from there. Why Stan chose to forget about it. Why he seemed to think Kyle wasn’t good enough, or wasn’t serious about taking their relationship further. 

And Stan, full of shit, told Kyle he just wasn’t ready for a relationship right now. 

But really, what he meant was that he was dead inside, and Kyle shouldn’t bother with the dead when he had so much life at his disposal. 

He ought to be OK with that, for Kyle's sake, but he he wasn't. He loved Kyle, and wanted to be with Kyle forever. That alone made him feel guilty and undeserving. How the hell do you even begin to tell the person you love something like that?


End file.
